Day 23

After shoveling the driveway and walk for the 3rd time in 24 hours, I leave to play in the snow…  My snowshoes take me to a spot where there is a large stand of mixed conifers – primarily white spruce and red pine.  When I pause to rest and reflect I realize that the schedule for the rest of my day has no room for a visit to my regular Sit Spot.

I close my eyes and breathe in This Spot.  Branches that gave up their ice jackets two days ago sport new ones today.  The wind makes a weird music:  the sighing characteristic of passage through pine needles accented with the clacking together of stiff ice-covered branches.

Today’s lesson:  Sit Spot is more a state of mind than a particular location.

Day 22

I settle onto my log bench, take a deep breath, and prepare to listen to the sounds of the woods in winter at night.

Lolli can never settle down when we come at this time of day.  She runs like a crazy person – always following the same route – to the left, around that pile of brush, and back to the path… then to the right, around another pile of brush… a giant figure eight.  And always at break-neck speed.  I know there must be wildlife… scents that get her riled up, but the animals never show themselves.  Eventually I talk Lolli into sitting by my feet… still, she must chew… doing her part to break down organic material and return it to the soil.  She destroys a piece of log.

The “wintery mix” that makes spattery sounds as it hits my jacket both soaks into the fabric, and accumulates in white piles in the folds.  A loud rumbling noise makes me think I’m in for another experience with thunder, though I saw no flash this time.  It turns out to be human sounds, amplified tonight for some reason… a plane overhead, snow plows and salt trucks on nearby roads.

Lolli and I both hear a rustling in the brush and we listen intently for a few seconds.  The log is more interesting and she returns to chewing.  I strain to see something, but alas…

As I return to my car I’m astounded that in such a short time my inbound tracks have become camouflaged by accumulation and the sculpting of the wind.

Day 21

The sun beats down on the ice-encrusted trees and they weep.  Some tears are liquid.  Some are crystalline.  Today’s lesson:  Sometimes you just have to cry, not because of sadness or melancholy… but because of the intense beauty that surrounds us.

Day 20

A proper visit to my Sit Spot when the conditions are fine takes one hour.  Twenty minutes to get there.  Twenty minutes of meditation.  Twenty minutes to get home.  Today, with only the one hour to spare, the meditation will be consumed by the walk.

A quarter inch of ice covers everything.  Each step must be made with utmost caution.  My back starts to ache from the stress of taking such care with each footstep.

It occurs to me as I pick my way slowly that each walk may be a metaphor for some aspect of my life.  I remember a Zen saying:  “True Zen meditation is not thinking of god while you mow the lawn.  It is mowing the lawn while you mow the lawn.”  Today, I can only walk.  I can think of no other thing…  or I will fall flat on my…

Today’s walk teaches me that I must attend to the task at hand with 100% of my attention.  What?  No more multi-tasking???

Day 19

Freezing rain is falling throughout the region.  I opt not to attempt the roads or the walk to my Sit Spot today.  Instead, I read through my entries to date, observing, reflecting…

Half-way through the first entry I switched from past tense to present tense…  and entries remain in present tense since then.  That’s interesting.  I wonder what that means?

My writing is rather anthropomorphic here.  I don’t tend to do that at my nature blog.  That’s interesting.  I wonder what that means?

When I started this blog to record my experiences at my Sit Spot, I chose to record only those observations, thoughts and feelings that came to me once I was in the woods.  Sometimes that includes a bit of the approach, or a bit of the walk out.  Still, when I read the entries, I’m instantly reminded of other things that happened that I did not record:

• Looking for a stranger’s lost dog.
• Getting mad at my dog for not coming when I call her.
• Conversations with other Dog Walkers.
• Thoughts and feelings too private to share with anyone.

My Sit Spot is not my only exposure to the natural world… So my entries also remind me of other hikes or experiences… Like the bonfire on the night of the eclipse, a walk-about with a bunch of teens during Day Camp Reunion at Audubon where I work, or a snow shoe walk in a different woods.

All in all, I’m not sure what is happening at my Sit Spot.  I’m not sure what I expect to happen, if anything.  It is a challenge to get there every day when you lead such a busy life.  Sometimes, when I get there, I feel like I must be crazy – trying to cram one more thing into my already-too-busy life.  Other times, after a deep breath, I feel that this is the only thing keeping me sane.  Often, there is a deep melancholy that I have to leave the woods at all.

We have passed the halfway point in the 30-day Sit Spot Challenge, though I suppose in fairness I should add 3 days to the end for the times I have missed.

Day 18

How can so much change in 36 hours.  Well… it was 36 hours of temperatures above 40.  Indeed, today the temps rise to near 60 for a good chunk of the day.  Approaching my Sit Spot is quite difficult.  Imagine 12 inches of powder exposed to 36 hours of warming.  Puddles?  No:  Lakes!  Slush up to my shins in some spots.

The air is generally warm, but waves of even warmer air drift past me as I walk.  It feels much darker in the woods tonight than when the snow was powder.  The slush doesn’t reflect light in quite the same way.

When I sit, I am aware of the presence of someone, something, but I see nothing.  The leaves rustle every now and again.  It takes me a while to realize that the sound I hear off to the south is not traffic on the road, but the rushing gurgle of the swollen creek.

I can’t stop thinking about Dave Love.  20 years old.  College student.  Gone now.  Aneurysm.  Everyone who knew him says, “He made you laugh.”

Day 17

I rely on snowshoes again today to get me to my Sit Spot.  As I sit, I notice that Lolli has definitely learned the purpose of the location.  In the beginning, she was restless, wondering when our walk would continue.  Now, she sniffs and explores without restlessness, and even sits and chews and listens.

My favorite time of day is dawn and the hour or two that follow.  The golden glow of sunlight gives way to bright, slanting rays… Songs of birds and chatter of squirrels replace silence…  The waking up…  Today I hear cardinals, blue jays, chickadees, titmice, downy woodpeckers, red-bellied woodpeckers, crows, and more.  Best of all, I hear kids playing.  (I’m glad to know kids still play in the snow!)

Tears sting my eyes when it is time to go home.  My intense desire to stay in the woods all day brings on a melancholy that can’t be explained…

Day 16

The depth of fresh powder averages twelve inches.  It drifts deeper in some spots.  The wind sweeps it away in others.  Still, today is a day for snow shoes.

Snow clings to every branch and tree trunk.  It is strange that there is not one animal track in the snow.  Chickadees argue back and forth about whose territory is whose.  No one else speaks.

I find I don’t want to leave.  I want to camp right here.  But chores call loudly and I head home.

I manage the groceries, but am too tired for the other chores…

Day 15

I did not visit my Sit Spot today.

It was Patrick’s last day at Audubon and we took him out for a beer after work.  He will be going “home” to Pittsburgh to look for more lucrative and more satisfying work.  (He’d rather be a wildlife biologist than an office manager… go figure.)

By the time I got home, I was too tired to go.  I suppose that is a lame excuse…  But it’s the one I’m using!…

Day 14

I could have used another layer.  It is colder than I thought it would be.  I am grateful to follow Snowshoe Man’s path, for I didn’t wear my snowshoes again today…  Walking where he walked takes less energy than walking through the deep and drifted snow.

When I arrive at my Sit Spot, I see Bones and his “mother” coming up the path.  They don’t usually walk in the woods.  Lolli and Bones play.  The two mothers talk briefly, then she to pick up kids, and me to 20 minutes silence.

It is a stunningly beautiful day.  The breeze works hard to dust the rest of the snow from the higher branches and to move puffy clouds across the sky.  The sun makes long, intricate shadows on the snow.